The Sum of a Soul
by wanderingwidget
Summary: COMPLETED! Finally finally finally... It's done! yippee... Chapter five is up and happiness ensues. Will SG-1 get Jack back, will Jack be Jack, and what will Jack do when he gets home... eep, read and review, even if it's to tell me that I'm evil.
1. One

Disclaimer: not mine, never were, I'm just borrowing, really. I'll put them all back when I'm done. If I ever get done.  
  
A/N: this is just chapter one. So be patient. If you really want to hurry me up send me lots and lots of e-mail. Really, it'll work. It should work. Try it and we'll see, okay?  
  
  
  
ONE:  
  
"Where the hell are you, Jack?" Daniel muttered, staring down at the scattered contents of several brown military files. The scattered record of the life of one Jonothan Richard O'Neill, colonel in the USAF, current location unknown. It was like a nightmare, only worse. The images and words cast about the room told the story of a nightmare of a life. They told the story of pain and horrors that Daniel had previously been unable to comprehend. Now they were all too real, and he only wished that they weren't.  
  
Jack had been missing for three days. Three days! He'd disappeared from the hospital the same morning that an unidentified man managed to infiltrate the SGC, locking it down and using the Stargate to travel to parts unknown.  
  
'Officially unidentified man,' Daniel amended in his mind. There had been no way to be completely sure of the man's identity but, even so, he knew it had been Jack or, rather, Jon. So did everyone else, judging from the pitying looks he'd been receiving around the mountain. People were acting like Jack was already dead. Yes, he'd left a note, but it hadn't been a suicide note. If anything that note was the one piece of hope that Daniel had left to cling to. In it Jack, or Jon, or both, had professed their belief that they'd be back. Not only that they'd be back, but that they'd be better.  
  
With a sigh Daniel slumped against the wall, sliding to the floor and surveying the wreckage of his office. He'd spent the last three days going over every bit of information Hammond had procured for him. Hoping, however slightly, that it might give him some insight as to where Jack, or Jon, would go. They'd already searched Edora, and several other planets that Jack had seemed to take a liking to. They'd informed both the Tok'ra and the Tollan that Jack had disappeared, most probably through the Stargate. The Tok'ra they'd informed because they had eyes and ears virtually everywhere. The Tollan they'd informed because Jack, Jon, or whoever, could possibly end up on Tollana, however unlikely that was.  
  
General Carter and Selmak were at the base, helping to co-ordinate the search. The Tok'ra also had a personal stake in returning Jack to his proper place. The errant colonel possessed information about Tok'ra bases and operatives that, in the hands of just about any ambitious goa'uld (and they were all ambitious) would mean the end of their resistance and, quite possibly, their species.  
  
"God, what did I do wrong?" Daniel asked, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Of course, he received no answer.  
  
* * *  
  
In her lab Sam was furiously working on building the device that the Colonel had so thoughtfully provided the schematics for. She was still having trouble with the idea. The Colonel, had drawn schematics, for something that was not a bomb, firearm, or telescope. 'He's not the Colonel,' she furiously reminded herself. He, whoever 'he' was, was an alternate personality. The result of some terrible trauma that her Colonel had chosen to keep to himself, in all probability for a damned good reason.  
  
Without paying attention to what she was doing Sam accidentally burned through a rather delicate piece of wiring. "Fuck," she muttered, softly and with feeling. With a sigh she removed the ruined piece and set it down next to the main body of the device.  
  
The device was basically made up of a textbook sized pile of circuit boards, layered and connected, and consisting of earth, goa'uld, and unidentified technologies. They all appeared to be working, but for the life of her the scientist in Sam couldn't figure it out, because it shouldn't have been working. If anything the varied circuits and their interfaces should have fried each other into crispy silicone fragments. Instead, Sam flicked the ON switch, the one bit she'd actually been able to figure out, and watched as three banks of red and green lights blinked on and off, while the circuits contentedly hummed to themselves. With a disgusted sigh Sam flicked the machine off.  
  
For all the colonel's exceedingly detailed schematics, the man's notes had been significantly lacking. He hadn't left any clues as to what this thing was, or what it was supposed to do. The only reason she'd chosen this one to begin with was that it was the last set of schematics he'd sketched out. Presumably it was the device, or one of the devices, that he'd used in his escape from the hospital, not to mention his subsequent activation of the Stargate.  
  
There was no evidence, of course. The security cameras had been fried a full five seconds before the 'mystery man' had walked onto the base. No one had seen him, no thing had seen him. For all they knew it could have been one large and completely coincidental computer glitch. 'Yeah,' Sam thought, 'and Santa Clause is a goa'uld.' There was no evidence, but she knew that it had been the colonel, or rather his 'primary alternate,' what had Daniel said its name was? Jon?  
  
That was another thing. She was royally pissed at Daniel. He'd as much as lied to her, and Teal'c, when he'd let them believe that that thing was Col. O'Neill. Even if it had only been for a few hours. He should have told them! 'He should have told me!'  
  
The soft rustle of fabric behind her alerted her that there was someone there. She turned tiredly. "What do you want, Dad?" she asked, facing her father.  
  
"You've been working practically non-stop on that thing for the last three days, Sam," her father said. "You should take a break."  
  
Sam knew that her father was right, but it was frustrating. Her CO, and friend, was missing, and when she wasn't doing anything she felt useless. Major Samantha Carter did not like feeling useless. It didn't sit right with her. Mutely, she shook her head. Back and forth, back and forth, pressing her lips together and fighting against tears which seemed to have appeared from out of nowhere.  
  
Jacob, seeing his daughter battling so hard to keep her feelings repressed, was caught between the tides of conflicting emotions. Half of him was proud to see a Carter with such control. The other half of him really wanted to pound the first half of him for making his daughter feel as if she had to be a stone, without feelings or emotion. In the end the sane part of him, Selmak, won out.  
  
'Go to her,' the Tok'ra whispered in his mind. 'She needs comfort.'  
  
So, for perhaps the third time in his daughter's life, Jacob Carter went to her and let her know that it was okay to be human. "Shh," he soothed her, enveloping her in his arms. "It'll be alright, Sam," he whispered against the top of her head. "It'll be alright."  
  
For her part, Sam clung to her father like she was three years old again. She held on to him like he was the only real thing in her world. And, for the first time in three days, she let down the dam of military upbringing and training, and she cried. Softly, and silently, Samantha Carter cried.  
  
"Shh, it'll be alright, Sam, it'll be alright."  
  
* * *  
  
General Hammond sat behind his desk. Waiting. He'd sent someone down to Jackson's office almost twenty minutes ago. Before that he'd tried calling. The anthropologist had ignored the phone, so he'd sent an airman to drag him away from his office. By force if necessary.  
  
Dr. Jackson needed rest. All of SG-1 needed rest. For that matter, Hammond himself needed rest. But, he wouldn't let himself rest until Col. O'Neill's team was taken care of. Jack would have his head on a platter if he ever found out he'd allowed this to go on for three days. The General allowed himself a small smile at that thought, but it disappeared all to quickly.  
  
Daniel appeared in the doorway, wearing the same shirt and slacks he'd appeared in three days ago. He looked like he hadn't seen the back of his eyelids for three days, ever since the Colonel had disappeared from Hillview. His clothes were wrinkled and rumpled. His hair was in disarray. Behind his glasses his eyes were tired and red.  
  
"Dr. Jackson, why don't you go home and get some rest?" the General asked, his voice soft, and not unkind. Jackson shook his head, arms wrapped around himself, chin tucked down against his chest. "Doctor, you can't help the Colonel if you're too exhausted to stand," the General pointed out. "Or if I put you on mandatory leave."  
  
A small smile flitted across the anthropologist's lips, a brief burst of emotion, quickly wiped away. Daniel had become remarkably well versed at hiding his emotions, ever since Jack had disappeared, but three days without sleep would start breaking down anyone's walls.  
  
"You'll call?" Daniel asked.  
  
Hammond nodded. "The moment we know anything, you'll know. You have my word."  
  
Daniel nodded, stood there silently for a moment, as if he couldn't remember what he was supposed to be doing, and then left the office. The door swung shut behind him. With a sigh Hammond sat back into his chair, rubbing the back of his bare head. After a moment's thought he picked up the phone on his desk, hitting the intercom.  
  
"Make sure someone's available to drive Dr. Jackson to his apartment," he ordered the secretary, and then sat back again.  
  
One down, two to go.  
  
* * *  
  
Teal'c nodded his thanks to the village elder of Bae-assen, a small village on P2X-667, a planet SG-1 had visited several months before Col. O'Neill's first disappearance. The worn looking man had informed him, very politely, that no, Colonel O'Neill had not been seen for several months, ever since the earthling's first visit to his planet.  
  
Teal'c had kept his face impassive by habit alone. Inside he felt beaten. This was the ninth planet he'd visited in three days. Several other SG teams were searching other planets. No one had found so much as a trace of O'Neill. Which was to be expected.  
  
After all, the man was trained in how to disappear. He'd managed to hide on his own planet for weeks and months at a time. With an endless amount of planets available to hide him, well, Teal'c didn't really expect to find his friend and comrade in arms until the man was ready to be found.  
  
Even so, he searched, because to do anything else would be to betray his friends, all of them. The other members of SG-1 were tearing themselves apart, each searching for O'Neill in their own way. If they could continue, then so could he. He had to.  
  
The big Jaffa turned away and started the five-mile hike back to the Stargate. He'd chosen this planet because of O'Neill's comments about its plentiful fish-life. The next planet had been chosen for the same reason.  
  
* * *  
  
Jack opened his eyes to find himself in the same place he'd been, off and on, for the last three days. The hours had been broken up by periodic visits to various different pieces of memories. None of them were pleasant. In between the strolls down nightmare lane he got to listen to his alternates. All of them.  
  
They were trooping through the small room, one at a time. First had been Jonothan, of course. After him had come Michael, Gary, Eli, and Grant. Every time he flashed on Michael's eyes he got the willies. Whatever shred of humanity he had left within him, it wasn't in Michael. He understood now why Jon had been so upset when he'd thrown him out there. He'd been lucky Michael hadn't killed everyone in the base.  
  
He would have been more than capable of it. And worse.  
  
Gary had been a servant in an arms dealer's house. He'd been the head Jeeves, and he acted like it. Right down to the snooty British accent. He'd been quite appalled at the state of his shared body.  
  
Eli had been an art dealer in a small suburb. For the life of him Jack couldn't figure out where the man had come from, but he'd chatted about work (it was so very fascinating), his girlfriend (Amanda Cordeu), and his dog (a German Shepard that Amanda was currently babysitting). The fool had thought he was out on business.  
  
Grant was a homeless mess. Jack remembered when he'd put the poor man together. A Vietnam veteran who'd lost more than his sanity in the trenches. His entire purpose was to catch the attention of a group of mercenary terrorists. It had worked.  
  
He searched the room, but he was alone. There were no alternates to bore, scare, or amuse him. Just Jack, all alone, as usual. The second he thought it Jon appeared, crouched in the opposite corner, dressed in black, every hair in place on his head. Eyes empty and cold.  
  
"You're not alone, Jack. Not now, not ever," Jonothan informed his mirror image. Jack swallowed and shook his head.  
  
"What, I know there are more of them hanging around. Are they shy?" Jack asked.  
  
Jon chuckled, and it was not a happy sound. "You need to rest, so I locked them up."  
  
"Why do you give a shit?"  
  
"If you die I die, remember. For that matter, so does everyone else."  
  
"Screw them, and screw you."  
  
"Is that any way to talk to the man that made you?"  
  
Jack just glared at Jonothan, eyes narrowed. Jon leaned against the wall and returned the glare, face neutral and eyes cold. "I never asked to end up in this world," he spat at the other man.  
  
"You think I did?" Jon asked, one eyebrow arching up. "My mother was raped by a freak of nature, you think I asked for that?"  
  
Jack closed his eyes, letting his head fall against the wall. 'You are him,' Jack thought, silently, but it made no difference.  
  
Jon shook his head. "I'm as much our mother as I am our father," Jonothan replied. Jack opened his eyes and looked at him. "I'm a killer, Jack. I'm as crazy as they come and I have done things for which I'm sure I'll burn in Hell. But I am not a rapist, and I would never hurt a child."  
  
"I know," Jack said, and then exhaustion reared up, and he let it fall over him.  
  
  
  
A/N: remember those e-mails! 


	2. Two

TWO:  
  
Three days later.  
  
Sam sat back and stared at the thing she'd just finished. Finally. After six days the 'doo-hickey' as the Colonel would have called it, was complete. Now all she had to do was figure out what the HELL it did. She ran a hand through her hair, closing her eyes and leaning her head back.  
  
Six days, and she still didn't have the foggiest clue as to what she'd built. Six days, and they seemed to be no closer to finding Colonel O'Neill than before. Six days, and what did she have to show for it? Three banks of little red and green lights which blinked on and off at seemingly random intervals. Sam opened her eyes and glared at the offending pieces of machinery. The lights were happily twinkling, like some sort of techno-futuristic Christmas tree, and the circuits were quietly humming, going about their business, whatever the heck their business was.  
  
'Damnit, Colonel,' Sam thought to herself. 'What are you trying to tell us?'  
  
The Major was not allowing herself to consider the possibility that, perhaps, this machine had absolutely no bearing on anything the Colonel had done or was doing. That, perhaps, it was just a diversion, just a delaying tactic, or just sheer boredom. Sam refused to believe that. There had to be something that she was missing. Something that the Colonel had not made readily apparent. Something.  
  
Anything.  
  
There had to be.  
  
* * *  
  
Goshen Nok-maal, Sa-ren of the Corenduk village, sat before his communal fire-pit and contemplated the man locked in the Chamber beneath the temple. The stranger had come to them many moons ago. Even then, with his true self buried so deeply within that the man was not even completely aware of it, Goshen had sensed his pain.  
  
Goshen had known, from the first moment he'd set eyes on Colonel O'Neill, that the Shalerets, the Fates, had brought him to Corenduk. So Goshen had brought the stranger to the Chamber, and the man had survived the Ordeal of Flesh. He had relived every injury ever dealt to him. The Chamber had had to revive him several times during the process, but he had survived.  
  
Then, the stranger and his people had left. In the time since then Colonel O'Neill had endured the Ordeal of the Mind. The Sa-ren, ever honest with himself, admitted that O'Neill looked worse for having survived the Ordeal.  
  
But he had survived.  
  
And now, now he was enduring the Ordeal of the Soul. If he survived, then the shadows in his eyes and on his heart would be lifted.  
  
If he survived.  
  
Goshen turned his eyes back to the flames in front of him. They leaped and twined, consuming their fuel and casting a soft blue glow. Goshen didn't know if what he had done was right. But, once the Ordeal was set into motion, it could not be stopped.  
  
* * *  
  
The planet was quiet, cal, and completely empty of intelligent life. The civilization which had long ago existed there had fallen to dust and decay many centuries before SG-1 had first set foot upon its soil. Teal'c strongly suspected that General Hammond had sent his team to this planet as a type of forced vacation. The fishing equipment which had been among their supplies had only served to confirm this suspicion.  
  
Colonel O'Neill had spent the two weeks they'd been on-planet fishing. He had succeeded in catching one underwater plant. It had been a vibrant pink in color. The Colonel had named it the 'pink-water-jack-weed.' Teal'c strongly suspected that the Colonel had been trying to make a joke.  
  
Never the less, the Colonel had stated, often, over the course of their 'mission,' that he would 'not mind' retiring there. So, Teal'c had come to this planet to find his friend and commanding officer.  
  
He turned away from the Stargate and started the two-mile trek to the ruins. Overhead the sun glowed brightly.  
  
* * *  
  
The pounding on his door was loud. Really, really loud. The moment Daniel thought that he shot up into full awareness, hand reaching out automatically to grab his glasses off of the nightstand. Someone was knocking at his door.  
  
Daniel gave his eyes a moment to adjust and then focused on the bright green numbers of his digital alarm clock. According to the device it was 3:23 in the morning. Nothing good could come from someone pounding on his apartment door at three thirty in the morning.  
  
Briefly he considered ignoring it. The pounding continued, then it was joined by a muffled shout. "Dr. Jackson! Dr. Jackson!" With a sigh the anthropologist pushed himself out of bed and stumbled into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He recognized that voice, and silently he wished that it was anyone else. At that moment he would have even taken Apophis over Sarah O'Neill.  
  
The pounding, and shouting, continued. Daniel winced as he stumbled through his dark and cluttered living room. His neighbors were so not going to be happy with him. He stopped at the inside of his apartment door, hand above the deadlock. Sarah continued pounding and shouting.  
  
Daniel closed his eyes, the tension coursing through his body. He REALLY didn't want to deal with Jack's ex-wife. He hadn't even been sure how to act around her the few times that he'd seen her before Jack's, problems, began.  
  
With a start Daniel opened his eyes and stared at his outstretched hand. It had convulsed into a fist, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm. It hurt. Daniel shook his head and forced his hand to open. In the dim glow from the streetlights outside he could see for small half moons cut into his skin. As he watched one filled with thick, black, blood. Shit.  
  
Daniel sighed, reached out with his uninjured hand, and unlocked the door, opening it by slow increments. It was kind of like a scene in a horror movie when the stupid-and-soon-to-be-dead character knows that the monster is on the other side of the door, and they open it anyway.  
  
The light from the hall was dim, but it still hurt his eyes. Sarah was a slender darkness standing, hands on hips, in the middle of his doorway. Daniel curled his bleeding hand and half hid it behind he leg, waiting for his eyes to focus on the woman.  
  
"Well it's about damn time," she said, voice stiff and annoyed, and slightly hoarse from all of the shouting. Then she started trying to force her way through the door and into the darkened apartment.  
  
Daniel's brain cells started processing what was happening just in time to block her way and force her two steps back until she was back out in the hallway. His living room was covered with file after file of Jack's horror story life. The hospital photos were pinned to bulletin boards in chronological order. The last thing that this woman needed to be seeing was the illustrated version of her ex-husband's sordid past. Besides, Daniel didn't think that any part of his friend would appreciate Sarah's knowing.  
  
"Can I help you, Sarah?" Daniel asked, voice hoarse with sleep.  
  
The shorter woman glared up at him. "I want to know where the Hell Jack is," she said, voice loud.  
  
Daniel winced, but didn't invite her in. The neighbors were definitely not going to be happy with him. "I honestly don't know," he replied, making sure to keep his own voice low. Sarah's eyes and body language said, plainly, that she didn't believe him. "He took off, Sarah. No one knows how he even escaped, let alone where his is. The only person who knows where Jack is, is Jack."  
  
"Then why the Hell aren't you out there looking for him? You are a member of his team, aren't you?" Sarah demanded. "I thought you two were friends!"  
  
Daniel closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the doorframe, consciously forcing his hand not to clench. He wasn't 'out there' looking for Jack because Janet had threatened to confine him to the infirmary with an IV and sedatives if he went out with any more search teams. The same had happened to Sam. Both members of SG-1 knew full well that they couldn't do squat from the infirmary. So, Sam was in her lab working on the Colonel's schematics, and Daniel was at home searching through Jack's past for anything even remotely resembling a clue.  
  
"Is there anything else?" Daniel asked Sarah, not opening his eyes.  
  
He heard her shifting. "Yes," she finally answered, voice lower than her previous shout. "I found these in a box in the attic. I thought that they might be able to help."  
  
Daniel opened his eyes and looked at her. She was holding several leather bound journals clutched to her chest. They had to have come out of the bag over her shoulder. He hadn't noticed it before.  
  
Clutching the journals like that, Sarah looked vulnerable. Daniel didn't know the woman that well, but he got the feeling that she didn't do vulnerable often. If ever.  
  
"I know that I've got no right to care," she said, her voice thick, as if she were holding back tears. "But I want him home and safe."  
  
Daniel pitied the woman, but it was the pity of one stranger for another. He didn't know this woman, not really, and his loyalty to Jack dictated that he wasn't, really, allowed to like her. He tried to soften his expression, but the best that he could get was non-accusatory.  
  
"Thank you," he finally said.  
  
Sarah nodded, once, then handed him the journals. "Just bring him home safe," she said, then turned and walked away.  
  
The leather in his hands felt thick and worn, as if they'd been well and heavily used. Knowing Jack, and Jon, Daniel was surprised that they'd even kept a journal.  
  
Sarah's plea echoed in his ears as she disappeared down the hall and he closed his door, locking it with a heavy sounding click. "Just bring him home safe."  
  
Daniel leaned his back against the door and closed his eyes, tilting his head back until it rested against the wood.  
  
"I'll try," he whispered to the darkness of his apartment. "I'll try."  
  
* * *  
  
"What are you staring at?" Jack asked, opening his eyes to find Jon leaning against the wall opposite him.  
  
His mirror image cocked his head to the side. "A figment of my imagination," he answered, voice bland.  
  
Jack closed his eyes and let his head fall back to the floor of his cell. The debate had lasted for as long as either of them could remember, and it had yet to reach a satisfactory conclusion. It was like the chicken and the egg, only worse.  
  
But then, like the chicken and the egg, in the end it didn't really matter.  
  
"Why are we still here?" Jack asked. He opened his eyes to find Jon standing above him, face neutral and hands in pockets.  
  
"You know why, Jack," Jon answered.  
  
Jack narrowed his eyes and pushed himself into a seated position. "Like Hell I do!" he shouted.  
  
Jon just smiled a secret little smile. The one that said that he knew everything, and he wasn't sharing. It told you everything, and nothing, all at once.  
  
"We commit the body of Charles O'Neill to the earth-"  
  
"No!" Jack whispered, pushing himself to his feet and out of the memory. He was breathing hard, as if he'd been running. And, in a way, he had.  
  
"There're still some things ye've got t'see, and miles t'go b'fore ye're free," someone said.  
  
Jack looked up to find Jay standing in Jon's place. He was wearing torn jeans and a white t-shirt. His leather jacket was worn and faded, and looked like it'd seen better days.  
  
"Ye were expectin' th'Pope, perhaps?" the alternate asked.  
  
Jack didn't respond verbally. Instead he pulled back his fist and let fly a punch. He hit the hallucination in the solar plexus, knocking the other man to the floor. Jay lay there, staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression.  
  
"Now why in the Hell did you go and do that?" Jon asked from behind him.  
  
Jack whirled to face him. When he glanced back Jay was gone. "You know why, you bastard," Jack answered Jon.  
  
"Of course I know, Jack. The question is whether or not you do." 


	3. Three

A/N: sorry if I've confused newcomers. This is the latest in a series that starts with Reflections of the Soul, then Shattered Souls, then Windows to the Soul, then this The Sum of a Soul.  
  
Disclaimer: a refresher, they aren't mine; they never were and never will be. I promise that I'll put them back exactly the way I found them, probably, as soon as I'm done. No small gray humanoid beings were hurt in the making of this fanfic.  
  
(Small siblings are another matter entirely)  
  
THREE:  
  
Daniel dropped the journals, three in all, onto the coffee table. They landed with a solid thud, and then the hiss-slide of papers careening to the floor. He ground the palm of his hand into his forehead and tried to convince himself that he was, in fact, going back to bed. The sun hadn't even risen yet. Surely, to God, he could go back to bed and get another hour or two of sleep.  
  
With a defeated sigh Daniel stumbled to the wall and clicked on the lights. They were bright. They hurt his eyes. He slid his hand over his temporarily blinded eyes and tried to order the rest of his brain to wake up.  
  
It worked, sort of. He eventually removed his hand and turned his eyes on his living room. Everywhere he looked was the same pair of dark hazel eyes. And blood, and bruises, and nightmares, which would haunt the anthropologist through the rest of his days. Daniel turned to the coffee table and the journals on top of it. He knocked an open file off of the couch. It coasted to the carpet and landed with a barely audible sigh. He flopped down onto the couch, jarring his bones and forcing himself further into the land of the chronically awake.  
  
In the light the three journals were all varying shades of brown. They were worn around the edges and tied closed with leather thongs. They lay on his coffee table in a lopsided pile. Beneath them the table was covered with papers, legal pads, notes scribbled on napkins, and old paper plates.  
  
One yellow legal pad was filled, the pages already threatening to fall off of their substandard binding. They were scrawled over with notes and hypothesis and, eventually, doodles. Daniel didn't let himself look too closely at the doodles, but he knew what they were anyway. The same pair of angry eyes, drawn over and over and over. He'd spent too much time digging through Jack's past, staring at those eyes. At this point he would almost have believed that he knew more about his friend than his friend knew about himself. Almost, if not for those dark eyes staring out at him from every surface in his living room. Almost.  
  
There were worlds of pain and anger and secrets in those eyes. There was no way to know what lay in the shadows in those eyes. No way short of madness, or death.  
  
Daniel rolled his head on his neck, then reached out and picked up the first journal. The leather warmed in his hands, as he unknotted the thong, until it almost felt like a living thing. He flipped the cover open. The paper was thick and yellowed around the edges. It smelled musty, like a basement library. The page was covered with a neat, easily legible script.  
  
Page after page was filled to capacity. The other two journals were just as full, of course.  
  
Daniel let the journal fall to his lap and fell back against the couch. This was going to take a while.  
  
Damn!  
  
He decided to start with the latest entry and work backwards. Although he wasn't sure that he'd even find anything of use.  
  
The beginning of the last entry was one sentence written in the middle of an empty page, about a third of the way through the last journal.  
  
'Charlie's dead and so is Jack O'Neill.'  
  
All of the pages after it, front and back, were filled with the same sentence, over and over, until there were no more pages. Daniel thumbed through page after page after page. The same sentence, like a mantra, over and over and over. The handwriting grew progressively less neat, more and more frenzied, until the last two pages were practically illegible.  
  
If he still could, Daniel probably would have cried. But he'd used up all of the tears he had, they'd stopped coming sometime between his seventh and tenth revision of Jack's life. They just wouldn't come.  
  
So, he sat on his couch, in his living room, surrounded by pictures of a boy he knew better than he wanted to. He sat, and he wrapped his arms around himself, and he didn't cry.  
  
* * *  
  
"Incoming traveler," the announcement rang through the base.  
  
Sam took off at a sprint, leaving the Colonel's confusing inventions on her worktable. She dashed through the doorway of her lab and down the hall, taking the stairs over the elevator. On the gateroom floor she caught up with a medical team.  
  
Medical team?  
  
'Oh, God, no!' Sam thought, slowing her pace so that the medical personnel could get into the gateroom unobstructed.  
  
Inside the gateroom Teal'c stumbled through the wormhole and down the ramp. His uniform was in shreds, his back a bloody ruin; his knee was cut deep enough to show the white of the bone. But he was the only one to come through the 'gate.  
  
When Sam hurtled into the room the medics were helping the big Jaffa onto his stomach on a stretcher. His back was plainly visible to the room. "Teal'c!" she shouted, sprinting to his side as the medics hoisted him up.  
  
The medics were wondering things like 'massive blood loss' and 'shock.' They started out of the room and into the hallway as someone began an IV.  
  
"Major Carter," Teal'c said, staring up at her from his odd angle, unable to focus on her face.  
  
"I'm here, Teal'c," she answered.  
  
His eyes fluttered closed as she watched. "I was unable to locate Colonel O'Neill," Teal'c reported. Then he was mercifully swept into darkness.  
  
* * *  
  
"Frankly it's a miracle that he survived, Sir," Frazier reported to the General. They were standing in the hallway outside of the infirmary. "Even with his symbiote."  
  
The General nodded his bald head, the fluorescent light shining off of it. "What are his chances, Doctor," he asked, voice tired. He sounded defeated.  
  
Janet sighed, then turned to look through the open doorway at her patient. "At this point," she said, voice low, "I'd say that fifty-fifty would be optimistic."  
  
The General nodded once more, glanced at Teal'c, Major Carter was sitting at his side, her face blank with shock. Then he turned away. "I'll inform Dr. Jackson," he said.  
  
Janet's lips pressed together in an unhappy line. "I don't know if they'll survive losing another member of their team, General," she said, still staring at her patient.  
  
"I know," Hammond said. They stood, silently, and watched them through the doorway. Then the General turned, and walked away.  
  
* * *  
  
"Jackson here."  
  
"Dr. Jackson, this is Hammond. I'm afraid that I have some bad news for you, son."  
  
"Jack?"  
  
"No! No, Teal'c was injured. He's in the infirmary now, but, his chances aren't-"  
  
"I'm on my way."  
  
* * *  
  
"Come on, Teal'c, we can't lose you too," Sam muttered against her clasped hands, eyes closed.  
  
"We're not going to lose him, Sam," someone said from behind her. She jumped, even though she knew the voice. "And we haven't lost Jack yet either."  
  
Sam nodded, not trusting her voice. She'd been choking down tears since she'd first seen the medical team. She wouldn't cry, she couldn't cry. Her team needed her to be strong. What they did not need was for her to have hysterics in front of them. She could have hysterics when she was alone in her house. Right now she had to be a rock. Rocks don't cry.  
  
Daniel watched silently as Sam nodded her head, over and over, as if she couldn't stop. Or she wasn't aware that she was still doing it. Uncomfortable, Daniel turned to look at his teammate. There were four different IV's hooked up to him. His chest was covered with thick white bandages. There was another bandage around his head. Against the darkness of his skin the bandages were a shocking whiteness.  
  
His eyes were closed.  
  
The anthropologist looked back to Sam. She'd managed to stop nodding her head. Now she was staring down at Teal'c, face empty and blank. Tentatively, Daniel placed a hand on her shoulder. She didn't react, but she didn't shrug him off either, so he kept his hand where it was.  
  
'Dear God,' he prayed silently. 'We could REALLY us a little help here,' he looked from Sam to Teal'c. 'Please.'  
  
* * *  
  
"Fuck off," Jack ordered his alternate, sliding down the wall and to the floor. Jay lowered himself into a crouch, keeping their eyes on a level.  
  
'Luv to, mate," Jay replied. "But this place's got diff'rent plans."  
  
Jack didn't reply. Instead he ground both palms into his eye sockets. God, he was tired. What the heck was he doing here? Letting some wrinkled nutcase he didn't even know lock him up in some underground alien box?  
  
When he looked back up he saw that Jay had plopped down on the floor, legs tucked up in a tailor's seat. The other man was watching him over clasped hands. "What the hell is yer problem with me, anyway?" Jay asked.  
  
Jack stared at him. Face blank. Then a bark of laughter escaped him, short and harsh and not a happy sound. "My problem?" he asked.  
  
Jay nodded, face carefully blank.  
  
"My problem," Jack repeated, using the wall to push himself up to his feet, "is that I've got a goddamned legion of nutcases running around in my head!"  
  
"You made me, Jack."  
  
"You were a mission. That's it. That's all. You shouldn't be in my life anymore!"  
  
"Why not?" Jay asked, looking up at him.  
  
"Jesus," Jack muttered, shaking his head.  
  
"You didn't have a problem with me before, Jack. I got the job done and you got to lie to the military shrinks. What changed?" His voice was tired as he said it, worn.  
  
Jack just stared at him.  
  
Finally he opened his mouth and spoke. Just one word.  
  
"Daniel."  
  
* * *  
  
Jacob sat in his daughter's lab, staring at the maddeningly useless blinking lights. He couldn't find the off switch and Sam was in the infirmary with Teal'c and Daniel.  
  
Still, for all the device's apparent lack of usefulness, it was a prodigious feat of engineering. Selmak had said as much, repeatedly, as they watched Sam put the thing together. Neither on of them could believe that Jack, Colonel O'Neill, was responsible for its creation.  
  
It was inconceivable, but there it was.  
  
* * *  
  
In the infirmary Sam and Daniel sat silently at their teammate's side. Teal'c was still unconscious.  
  
Sam closed her eyes, letting her neck rest on the back of the chair. The double beeping of the dual heart monitor was disturbing and soothing at the same time. The only proof that life still lay before them.  
  
The soft beeping droned on and on, and Sam was having a hard time keeping herself awake.  
  
Daniel quietly thumbed through Jack's journal as Sam drifted off beside him. Maybe he could find something useful, maybe not. Either way, it was a sure way to keep himself awake. The journal he was working on was the oldest. Apparently Jack had started it in a military mental hospital, at his psychiatrist's orders. It was a record of his nightmares, and it was written entirely in Arabic.  
  
Apparently Jack hadn't wanted his shrink to be reading about his nightmares. After only having translated three entries Daniel could understand that wish. If he had been Jack's shrink, and had read what he was reading, he would have never allowed the man out of a five by seven padded room.  
  
* * *  
  
Sam jerked awake when the beeping stopped. She opened her eyes. Blackness. All of the lights were out. She reached a hand out, blindly, and found Daniel at her side. He grasped her hand in his own.  
  
A moment later the lights came back on. General Hammond's voice crackled through the intercom. "Major Carter and Dr. Jackson to the observation room!"  
  
Sam turned to stare at Daniel at the same time he turned to stare at her. One thought was on both of their minds.  
  
* * *  
  
Hammond watched as the two conscious members of SG-1 ran into the room, breathless. They came to a stop at the end of the table. Jackson bent over, trying to catch his breath. Carter fared better. Neither was looking at him, though. They were both staring at the small, gray skinned alien standing hi front of the large bullet proof glass window.  
  
"Greetings Daniel Jackson and Major Carter," the alien intoned with a nod of his head.  
  
"Greetings Thor," Daniel replied, upright, his breathing even, his face only slightly flushed.  
  
"Colonel O'Neill?" Sam asked, her voice hopeful.  
  
"Sadly, no," the little alien answered. "I am here because our sensors picked up a," he paused. "A signal, from this base."  
  
"We've sent no signals," Hammond broke in, reminding them of his presence.  
  
"No," Thor said, turning to Hammond, then back to Daniel and Sam. "We have reason to believe that the signal is from Colonel O'Neill."  
  
"Colonel O'Neill is missing," Hammond said, his voice suddenly suspicious.  
  
"We are aware of that," Thor responded.  
  
"Then why do you think the signal is from Jack?" Daniel asked, curious.  
  
"The signal is in the language of the Ancients," he said, "and the message was this: 'We are a very curious species.'"  
  
Ten minutes later Jacob Carter walked into the room. In his hands he carried Sam's recreation of Jack's 'doohickey.' It was still blinking its lights and whirring to itself. Happy as a mechanical clam. He placed it in the middle of the table, then took a seat next to his daughter.  
  
Thor stood, motionless in a way that no human could recreate, and stared at the device on the table. The device blinked benignly at him. A random series of read and green lights chased themselves across the screen.  
  
"Col. O'Neill created this?" the alien asked, still staring at the device.  
  
"He drew the schematics for it, yes," Sam answered, after swallowing. Her mouth was suddenly very, very dry.  
  
"This is not human technology," the alien said. It was a statement, not a question. No one answered him.  
  
Sam's eyes darted from Thor to the device and back again. Her throat felt like there was a rock in it. An unexpected hand on her own startled her. She half turned in her seat and looked at her father, eyes wide. He smiled encouragingly at her.  
  
She licked her lips nervously and turned back to Thor. "Do you know what it is?" she asked, her voice low, but solid.  
  
The alien nodded. Silently he reached out one long fingered hand. One fingertip traced across a seemingly meaningless row of glowing lights. The machine clicked, abruptly, three times. Everyone but the alien jumped.  
  
Above the device a small hologram formed, a hand sized replica of the Colonel. A recorded message. It slowly turned. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the hologram to speak.  
  
"Howdy campers," it finally said, in Jack's voice. " I suppose that you're all worried, and I'm sure that I'll have hell to pay and all," it went on. "I'm sorry if I've hurt you, I really am."  
  
Silence.  
  
No one moved. No one blinked. Everyone waited, silently willing the pint sized Colonel to tell them where he was. "I guess you'll want to know where I am," it said, then sighed, slumping slightly. It looked back up, tiny face determined. "Look for me where you lost me," it said.  
  
And then it was gone.  
  
Everyone sat in silence, staring at the empty air where Jack's simulacrum had stood.  
  
"What the Hell does that mean?" Hammond voiced the question on everyone's mind.  
  
No one answered.  
  
  
  
A/N: yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, I know. I am doing my best! PLEASE read and review! Also, go visit my website, you can find the URL on my little blurb thingy. Whatever. Check it out. Go to the links. Read my Blogs! Or not. But PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! 


	4. Four

A/N: sorry if I've confused newcomers. This is the latest in a series that starts with Reflections of the Soul, then Shattered Souls, then Windows to the Soul, then this The Sum of a Soul.  
  
Disclaimer: a refresher, they aren't mine; they never were and never will be. I promise that I'll put them back exactly the way I found them, probably, as soon as I'm done. No hallucinations were harmed in the writing of this chapter. Annoying pets are another matter entirely (you try typing with a Siamese draping herself over your arms!).  
  
FOUR:  
  
Sam came through the event horizon first, P-90 up and primed. She moved to the left immediately, making room for the rest of the team, eyes searching the empty landscape for any sign of danger. There weren't any, but there hadn't been any before either, she kept her eyes peeled. Everything was exactly as she remembered it from the first time she'd set foot on the planet.  
  
Her father and Daniel came through next. Teal'c was still in the infirmary, where Frazier had had to order him to stay under threat of sedation. Her father had an activated zat in his hand and started to actively sweep the perimeter, looking for hostiles. That wasn't surprising. Daniel had a P-90, up and primed, and was scanning their surroundings as well. That was surprising. The anthropologist had gotten, and kept, his certification on it a while ago, at Col. O'Neill's insistence, their CO hadn't liked the idea of Daniel only having a handgun to protect himself with. The Colonel had had to physically drag the younger man out to the firing range, but Sam had to admit that her CO had done what he'd say he'd do. Daniel held the weapon like he knew how to use it and his eyes scanned the area as diligently as hers and her father's.  
  
Daniel and her father moved to the right and Frazier stumbled through the Stargate, blinking her eyes rapidly. Nothing moved except for them, it was as if they were all alone on the planet. It was all an illusion, of course. They all knew better. Behind them the 'gate whooshed closed. In front of them lay an empty and well-traveled path.  
  
The four of them traded looks that were full of much too much. They all wanted Col. O'Neill back, safe. They all wanted him to be the man he had been. They were all afraid of what would greet them at the end of this path.  
  
Sam's mind flashed on her memory of the Colonel, nailed to that damned cross. His face bloodied and bruised. Chest covered with more cuts and bruises. His less had been broken. When the villagers had taken him down they'd revealed whiplashes. Long, dark, bleeding red gashes. His eyes had been open, but empty, and full of dark things like nightmares only half- seen.  
  
She didn't have to look to her right to know that Daniel was seeing the same thing. Janet and her father hadn't seen Col. O'Neill like that. A small favor, but one she knew that she, and no doubt the rest of SG-1, appreciated.  
  
* * *  
  
*"You didn't have a problem with me before, Jack. I got the job done and you got to lie to the military shrinks. What changed?" His voice was tired as he said it, worn.  
  
Jack just stared at him.  
  
Finally he opened his mouth and spoke. Just one word.  
  
"Daniel."*  
  
"What about him?" Jay asked, staring at Jack over steepled fingers.  
  
"You took advantage of him!" Jack answered. He was trying to be angry, but the self-loathing was too thick. His voice came out quiet and broken.  
  
Jay shrugged. "He showed up at my door," he pointed out, not unreasonably. "He knew what he was coming in for."  
  
Jack just shook his head, voice choked, his eyes wide so that the tears that he felt gathering wouldn't fall. 'He's my friend,' Jack thought. 'A member of my TEAM!' It was as good as shouting.  
  
"So?" Jay asked. "He's not a member of mine."  
  
Jack closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. 'He trusted me,' Jack thought, eyes still closed, 'and I betrayed that trust.'  
  
Jay laughed. "You didn't betray him, or take advantage of him. IHe/I came to Ime/I. IHe/I kissed Ime/I. He shoved a needle into Imy/I back. If anyone was betrayed it was me, and I deserved it!"  
  
"He's not a whore," Jack said, aloud, opening his eyes and glaring at the other man.  
  
"I never said that he was."  
  
"He was my friend."  
  
"From the indications he still is."  
  
Jay's eyes widened as he stared at Jack's face. "You're ashamed." It was a statement.  
  
Jack swallowed, his throat constricting again, but he didn't close his eyes. He nodded.  
  
"Why for god's sake?"  
  
Jack didn't answer, but his thoughts were enough.  
  
Jay guffawed. "You think the boy won't accept you as a friend, knowing that you've got a bit of a bugger in you?"  
  
This time Jack did close his eyes.  
  
"I don't think that you're giving the boy enough credit, Jack," Jay said.  
  
"Maybe you should be talking to him."  
  
When Jack opened his eyes, minutes or hours later, Jay was gone, and he was as alone as he had ever been.  
  
* * *  
  
The villagers ignored them as they walked into the village. They'd been expecting them ever since the stranger had returned to complete the Rite. Their lack of reaction did not go unnoticed.  
  
"Looks like we're expected," Jacob commented under his breath. Silently everyone agreed with him. They moved through the village carefully, Sam on point and her father at the rear. Daniel paced the doctor between them, eyes as open as humanly possible.  
  
A child ran across the street, dressed in brightly dyed furs, or maybe they weren't dyed. Two P-90's and a zat trained themselves on the little boy, or girl, they were too young to tell for certain. They did didn't even blink, but continued on their way.  
  
Daniel let out a breath, slowly, easing his finger away from the trigger. They were coming up on the town square, where they'd originally found Jack, nailed to a cross. The memories were making Sam and Daniel jumpy. The other two members of the group were picking up on their tension.  
  
'Four armed and dangerous individuals, jumpier than Jiminy Cricket in a whore house,' Daniel thought to himself. 'Not a good situation in the middle of a civilian population.'  
  
They rounded a squat round hut and were suddenly in the square. The thankfully empty square. The cross still stood, exactly where it had been before, but there was no one on it. The wood was too dark to show the blood that had to have stained it. Rain and wind had washed away any evidence that had been on the bare dirt at its base.  
  
A shudder passed through the remaining members of SG-1. Both stood and stared at the empty cross, their faces carefully blank, but their eyes betrayed them.  
  
Dr. Frazier had read the report on Col. O'Neill's injuries. It had read like a horror story shopping list, but there hadn't been a mark (a new mark at least) on him when he returned. Just an addition to the emptiness in his eyes.  
  
The report and his eyes had been enough to give her nightmares for over a week. She'd scared Cassie one night, waking herself up with a screaming sob. She could only imagine the nightmares that the members of SG-1 were having.  
  
On second thought, no, she couldn't. And she knew that she didn't want to.  
  
The group stopped on the edge of the empty square. Two people staring at the empty cross in front of a heavily adorned hut. The other two were trying to keep an eye on them while still keeping an eye on their surroundings.  
  
The illusion of stillness and solitude was complete. The double suns beat down on them. The air didn't move, not even to whisper. All that they could hear was their own heartbeats and the other's hushed breathing.  
  
The illusion was broken as the Sa-ren stepped out of his hut and around the cross. His tanned and wrinkled face was serious. His eyes were dark. He raised his hands above his head and clapped, once, then he brought his clasped hands down in front of his face and bowed.  
  
"Sa-senai comont sa-kinei," he intoned.  
  
"We welcome the strangers to our land," Daniel whispered in translation.  
  
"Sa-senai sorontah ka-senai sa-senai."  
  
"We ask the strangers to join us in awaiting the seeker."  
  
"Seeker?" Sam asked, keeping her eyes on the little old man.  
  
"Jack."  
  
"Sa-kinei tah sa-senai."  
  
"Please follow me."  
  
The old man bowed once more, then turned away and walked out of the square. The four earthlings, plus one tok'ra, exchanged a glance, then they moved as one to follow him. After all, what else could they do?  
  
* * *  
  
"What do you want, Jon?" Jack asked tiredly, not even opening his eyes. He could see his double in his mind clearly enough. A cleaner, better dressed, version of himself. Just ignore the soulless eyes and rampant amorality.  
  
"What do you think?" was the reply.  
  
"You are a stubborn son of a bitch."  
  
"Takes one to know one, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, I suppose so."  
  
Jack drew in a deep breath, and then let it out, slowly. "I don't suppose that there's any way to avoid this, huh?" he asked, still not opening his eyes.  
  
"You want out of this thing alive?"  
  
Jack didn't answer right away. He rolled the question around in his head. Over and over again. Did he really want to go on with his life? Did he want to face Daniel, Sam, and Teal'c again? Could he look General Hammond in the eye? Was there an icicle's chance in Hell that he could convince Mackenzie to put him back on active duty?  
  
Finally, Colonel O'Neill opened his eyes. The room was empty, just him and his thoughts. "No," he said, softly.  
  
"Tough luck, Jackie-boy," Jon whispered in his ear. Then he was falling, fast. Too damned fast.  
  
The ground rushed up towards him in the dark and he forced his hand away from the chute pull. Not yet, not fucking yet. The ground loomed closer, and then it was time. He pulled the cord.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
The ground got closer.  
  
A/N: Oh, lookie what I went and did. Finally. I know, I know, I have been very, very, very, very bad. I am sorry. REALLY sorry. But, que serra, serra, and all that jazz. Hope you enjoyed it. PLEASE REVIEW! If I don't get responses then I don't get motivation and my muses take that as tacit permission to go on walkabout. If that happens that means that y'all have got to wait longer than a saint could. Oh, yeah, by the way, thanks for taking the time to actually read this stuff. Y'all are great, really. 


	5. Five aka THE END!

What do you do when everyone and everything you've based your world around suddenly ceases to exist. Worse yet, what do you do when everything you've based yourself around decides to turn the universe on its axis? If there was an answer to that question, Jack O'Neill did not know it.  
  
All that he knew was darkness.  
  
* * *  
  
It was the waiting that was getting to them. It had been four hours and what did they have to show for it? Nothing. Nada. Zip. And now the sun was starting to set.  
  
"Goddamnit!" Sam swore under her breath, pushing herself to her feet, kicking dust into the fire pit in the process.  
  
The Sa-ren remained impassive on the other side of the flames. His wizened old face wasn't exactly empty, but it was content. To him the universe made sense, and so did his place in it. The other four people around the fire were not so lucky.  
  
Dr. Janet Frazier, seated by the fire, watched Sam pace with her peripheral vision. The other woman had spent the last four hours alternating between sitting and pacing. None of them had spoken since the Sa-ren had guided them to this place.  
  
'This place' turned out to be a large patch of empty ground and what looked to be a well used fire pit. It was a good way from the village, and the petit doctor was beginning to wonder if the old man wasn't dragging them along on some sort of alien goose chase.  
  
Daniel had spent the last four hours mentally reciting all of the four letter verbs in the Goa'uld language. When he'd finished with that he planned to move on to the seven letter nouns.  
  
Jacob had spent the last four hours watching his daughter and her teammates, and being mentally 'yelled' at by Selmak. Apparently the old snake was of the opinion that he should be comforting his daughter. Jacob knew better, and so did Drs. Jackson and Frazier from the looks of it, whoever approached Sam first was going to find themselves beaten into a bloody pulp, if they were lucky.  
  
* * *  
  
General Hammond was drawn out of his office by the commotion in the 'gate control room. When he stormed down the stairs he was greeted by the sight of one mightily pissed off Jaffa in medical scrubs and a cowering Air Force doctor.  
  
"Dr. Burgin!" Hammond shouted at his subordinate, choosing for the moment to deal with the less threatening figure. "What in the heck is going on down here?"  
  
"Uh-ummm, h-h-h... Mister-uh, Te-te-te-" poor Dr. Burgin stuttered.  
  
"I'm waiting, Doctor," Hammond glowered.  
  
"Mr. Teal'c has l-left the infirmary without pe-pe-permission," the doctor finally managed to get out. "He's not fully recovered!"  
  
"Mr. Teal'c?" the General asked, turning towards the large and imposing man. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I am awaiting the return of SG-1" the Jaffa replied, standing at attention and meeting Hammond's eyes.  
  
Hammond blinked, and sighed. "Teal'c," he said. "We have no way of knowing when they'll be back."  
  
"Then I will wait here until their return," the Jaffa insisted. "I would have accompanied them, had I not been unconscious at the time," with this he directed a glare at the quivering Dr. Burgin.  
  
"Uhm..." the Doctor whimpered.  
  
Quickly assessing the apparent well-being of the Jaffa, General Hammond made a tactical decision. "Mr. Teal'c," he said, "why don't you come up to my office?"  
  
One of Teal'c's eyebrows shot up, but he did his little half-bow thing and followed the General up the stairs.  
  
* * *  
  
Jack was in the dark again, and it was so far beyond old that he didn't even bother thinking something sarcastic about it, he just... stood, if one can stand in a place without any ground. Apparently the acid trip down memory lane had been put on pause, the last thing that he remembered was Nordstrom's face as he'd pulled the trigger. After that things got a little, fuzzy.  
  
"Oh, look, you're up," a voice commented, it seemed to echo in the blackness that was surrounding him.  
  
Jack groaned. "And which one are you?" he asked.  
  
All the answer he got was his own echo.  
  
"It's almost over," the voice informed him.  
  
"Swell," Jack muttered. "So what's left?" he asked, turning and holding his hands out at his sides. "Are we gonna have another skewer the nut job festival?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then what?" Jack asked, letting his arms drop.  
  
"A question."  
  
"A question?" Jack repeated.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Silence. Darkness. Cold.  
  
"Well, what's the question?" Jack asked, finally growing too impatient to wait.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
His mouth opened, then shut, then opened again.  
  
"I'm-"  
  
* * *  
  
Daniel glanced up. "Holy..." he exclaimed, standing before he realized he was moving.  
  
Three heads turned to stare in the direction that he was staring.  
  
A familiar figure was standing at the edge of the firelight, hands shoved into his pockets. "Hiya, kids," he said, stepping into the light.  
  
Daniel got to him first, so the first welcome he got was a hearty bear hug, followed by a smack upside the head and an even hardier "Bastard!"  
  
The others stared at them. Jack smiled. "It's good to know I'm welcome," he muttered.  
  
"S-sir!" Sam stuttered, eyes wide, then she smiled. "It's good to see you, sir."  
  
"It's good to be seen," the Colonel replied, then he ran his hand through his hair. "Now, would someone mind telling me what in the name of all the saints is going on here?"  
  
Four pairs of eyes stared at him. Four mouths gaped. One snake chuckled.  
  
"It is finished," the Sa-ren said, in English, causing everyone to stare at him. He didn't say anything else, he just levered himself up and started off for the village in the darkness.  
  
Jack half turned to follow his progress, then turned back as the older man was lost to the night. "So, who's gonna fill me in?"  
  
* * *  
  
"I don't believe it," Jack exclaimed, staring at each of his teammates in turn. They'd returned through the stargate, been checked out in the infirmary, and now they were debriefing him.  
  
"It is the truth, O'Neill," Teal'c informed him from across the table.  
  
"You've seen the footage for yourself, sir," Sam piped up.  
  
Daniel was just staring at him, and had been staring at him ever since he'd shown up at the fireside.  
  
Jack turned to Hammond and raised an eyebrow. The General was staring down at a very thick, closed, folder, with the words Top Secret stamped on the cover in red. He looked up, meeting the eyes of everyone in the room. Instead of answering, he turned to Major Davis, who had been waiting in the corner.  
  
"Ahem," the Major said, stepping forward. "As far as the Air Force is concerned, this never happened."  
  
* * *  
  
"Finally!" Jack exclaimed, unlocking his door and walking into his own house for the first time in what felt like years.  
  
Daniel followed him in, closing the door behind himself. He watched the older man carefully as he made his way around the living room, turning on the lights and making faces at the dust.  
  
"Jeeze," Jack muttered. "I need to get a cleaning crew in here."  
  
"Probably," Daniel replied, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. "So," he said, as Jack moved towards the stereo.  
  
Without really caring what it was Jack hit play. The delicate chords of Metallica's Sandman flooded the living room. He turned taking in Daniel's posture and the look on his face.  
  
"Just who the hell are you?" the anthropologist asked.  
  
END. 


	6. the author's note

A/N: yes, I am evil, very evil, extremely evil, and I blame it all on people who made me write this when I had yet to discover the answer to Daniel's question myself. So, in the tradition of lots and lots of annoying anime and manga, I leave the ending open open open, I suppose that you can read into this what you will... Jack, Daniel, hmm.  
  
Thanks to each and every one of you who've reviewed and e-mailed me, this entire travesty is all your fault ;-).  
  
Please keep in mind that none of this series has been beta'd, I was too impatient to be that good. Maybe at some point in the future I will get it beta'd and re-upload it... maybe.  
  
For the last time, I do not own Stargate, sg-1, or Jack O'Neill. I do, however, own Jon, Jay, and any other personalities that I shoved into Jack's poor little skull.  
  
Please review, I LIKE reviews, and given a week or two of lots of reviews I just might be able to pull an epilogue out of thin air... maybe... or I might leave it open, I like open endings.  
  
As stated above, I am evil.  
  
Ciao. 


End file.
